


Future

by nikkixsensei



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25502962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkixsensei/pseuds/nikkixsensei
Summary: Post 4x02 - "Mato". An alternate take on events from the first half of season 4. Lizzie sets out to make things right with Red, take responsibility for the pain she caused in faking her death, and from that conversation a deeper truth concerning Agnes rises to the surface.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

_"The future holds such promise. The past, so many regrets."_

* * *

Her tenure as Kirk's hostage opened Elizabeth's eyes.

Despite providing destruction and a sense of safety in seemingly equal measure, Red wasn't at all to blame for what she deemed wrong with her life. Biology instead – who she was, who her parents were as well as _what_ they were – was the culprit. The set of circumstances which resulted in their paths converging was not.

_I know you're afraid, sweetie. You should be. Agnes will never be safe in Raymond's world._

Hindsight offered the benefit of seeing 20-20. With perfect detail, the events of that day, the day in which her daughter was born and she participated in the ultimate deception, appears in her mind's eye. She recalled the elder woman approaching her bed side, explaining the particulars of her plan that would in effect forever extricate her from Red.

How could she forget the way he availed himself, his resources, without a moment's pause in order to both restore and repair her standing in the world?

At the time, she felt trapped, backed into the corner with no escape route. Everyone was advising her to run without outlining why or presenting anything concrete as to how getting away from Red was not only an answer, but also THE answer. Between Agnes coming into the world, finding a way to move forward with Tom however ill-advised, and the question of who contracted Solomon, before her was a sense of disconnect.

The one thing she could grasp was the same variable she was told to run from.

If not for Red, she would either be in prison or dead. In spite of the many incomplete truths, that was the one, single truth deserving of consideration – of _her_ consideration. He always advised her not to run, but to fight. Simultaneously, he promised more so than simply reassured her of his presence should the obstacles prove too much for her to tackle independently, raising a key issue.

Apart from Sam, only Red exhibited faith in her, in her capabilities to fend for herself. His confidence in her was natural, instinct serving as the roots.

Running was beneath her, she imagined him saying.

That his esteem for her wasn't coerced or a consequence of some sort distinguished Red from Kirk who from the onset manipulated events, distorted the truth in an effort to make himself appear innocent or victimized. He lacked any concept of the facts, inventing rather than reliving events. By contrast, Red offered truths in facets which would always be preferable – more valuable – she realized than none.

He was better than in part because he didn't put on heirs or make apologies for himself.

She admired Red's ability to exhibit comfort, confidence, in rather extreme circumstances.

After her retrieval from her childhood home, a decoy no less, she tried reaching out to Red only to be met with nothing. Never before had she experienced a silence so deafening. It was rather loud actually. Not even Dembe who was always gracious and a gentleman much like the man who was more so a father than a brother regarded her with kind eyes. Between the two, he was colder toward her. She could tell that Baz was unsure of how to proceed other than to continue monitoring and overseeing a protection detail.

It wasn't until he escorted her through the makeshift home Red established for Agnes and Tom following her faux death that the gravity of the preceding months hit her.

_As far as I'm concerned, some things are unforgivable._

He was generous to a fault, and cruelty was her method of repaying that kindness.

He didn't deserve the brunt of her frustrations no matter how capable he was of withstanding the onslaught. More to the point, the moment she agreed to go along with Kate's plan, she wasn't the only one deprived of light or the hope stemming from it. Red himself lost that as well as trust which, given the environment he operated in, isn't a regular form of currency.

It was rare and pure and existed both in the context of their relationship and with the select few he reserved a place in his heart for.

Picturing Kate brought more discomfort to an already messy situation. As distant and cold Red was toward her, she couldn't allow herself to fully ponder what he would do – or, as it turned out, had done – to her. Nor did she blame him either.

Instead of detracting the misery, more was created.

More lives were endangered because she didn't think for herself. She let others make the decisions for her. Lizzie wanted to fix the damage, repair what she broke, but she didn't have the slightest idea of how to go about accomplishing that. In the weeks that followed, the landscape didn't offer much in the form of solutions either. Instead, she reminded herself that while not a luxury there was time – she could make amends.

The problems continued to mount.

One recovery mission evolved into two.

Her colleagues were tolerant of her presence. In the beginning, it was hard to get a good, solid read on their interactions since the routine consisted of taking the documents she prepared per the information provided by Red and delegating functions accordingly.

Speaking of Red, he flinched whenever she touched him. She got the impression that just being near her was painful not only emotionally, but also physically. He rarely looked her directly in the eyes. Instead, he looked everywhere but at her. If she didn't know better, she would presume he was scanning the perimeter which she couldn't argue with as threats were always around the corner.

To ever let one's guard down spelled trouble.

Red would give her the name of the week's blacklister followed by any other details whether they were relevant to the case at hand or not and then with Dembe depart in their Mercedes quickly. Asking to accompany him when he traveled was futile, so after the first couple of attempts she stopped, resigned to waiting for _Nick's Pizza_ to appear on her caller ID.

Today, her fear for him amplified with concurrent operations and his taking point in Slovenija, more specifically a villa managed by one of Kirk's subsidiaries that would be pristine for hiding a child. To be on the sideline for an event as critical as recovering Agnes was incredibly difficult, but why run the risk of increasing the torment for either of them by arguing?

_The two of us have overcome so much._

_We can do this – you and I._

What of betrayal? Was that something they could overcome?

She once described him as the bane of her existence, and that was true up to a point. Beneath the confident exterior was a man as broken as her, vulnerable and struggling to find his footing, to claim or reclaim balance, in a world that transformed him into a harder person. She wondered if there was a kind of recognition when meeting his reflection in the mirror.

Could they move forward?

Progression all around hinged on Agnes's survival.

Simultaneously, as the tension escalated between herself and Red, her standing with Tom deteriorated. It was risky in every sense to offer 'better days' as a description. Their rather tenuous standing could be chalked up to both worrying about Agnes's welfare except that was only part of the story. Compounding the concern was having all of those old warnings on repeat.

In increments, they started to manifest.

_He's reckless, dangerous. He's not worthy of being your husband, and he sure as hell isn't worthy of raising that child._

_You were wrong about him once. What makes you so sure you're not wrong this time?_

Maybe she could reach a point of acceptance once, but that wasn't the case now. With her child's life at risk, there was no room for mistakes. Who knew that better than either herself or Kate? After awhile, you come to realize convincing yourself that a particular stance is valid doesn't then make it true.

Misdirection guised as hope for more simply isn't enough.

It's far from that in fact.

At some point, everything warrants consideration, even the aspects one is more inclined to deny or ignore out of fearing their confrontation. Why? Because the world isn't one-dimensional. It isn't even two-dimensional. It's multifaceted, and the acquisition of more requires reciprocity as opposed to finding comfort in fixed points.

It wasn't enough that he not expect but demand total truth from her while deflecting the consequences of decisions he made, recovery operations of his own that failed, onto Red, and she didn't hesitate to challenge him in either that regard or what precipitated her tenure in Cuba.

The so-called chains they sought a reprieve from weren't crafted by Red. Rather they were crafted by self-deception, a whim to actualize a fantasy no matter the cost.

_I'm walking in a park with my husband. In between us is our little girl. I'm holding her hand in mine, and I never let go._

Could anything of her and Tom's creation ever blossom into the normalcy she craved?

_I understand what it's like to be drawn to something that is unhealthy, to a part of yourself that you are afraid of._

She was certain that Tom cared for Agnes. The uncertainty was whether he loved her. She wanted to believe that he did, but the margins of that actually being the case were slim. Unlike her, he had no concept of love. It was something he had to feel his way through, she concluded. It was a factor she could accept if not for compromising her own sense of integrity in the process by choosing Tom, letting him in.

Never mind the ramifications on womankind.

What kind of example was she setting for her daughter?

What was she teaching her about relationships, what to look for in a partner and ultimately seek or aspire for? As important as it is to sacrifice, doing so isn't worthwhile when your hopes and ambitions are left unsatisfied, your life and sense of self fractured.

_Do you really want your child to pay the price for that mistake for the rest of his or her life?_

_Everything was a lie! My life was a lie! Every feeling, every memory..._

She may have been in the dark for so long about many things, but on one she was resolute.

A Red-less future wasn't in the cards, not for her or for Agnes.

Of the two men in her life, one evoked a sense of obligation and entitlement whereas the other personified the contrast, an unparalleled selflessness tempered by insecurity and a desire to prove he was worthy. In reality, it was her that felt undeserving of him.

Therein was the ultimatum.

All she asked of the man whose last name she kept was a morsel, an indicator, that co-existence was in the offering. Despite the frequency in which she must have disappointed Red, he always came through for her without demanding anything in return.

From her vantage point, the choice was an easy one.

It was simple and clean – linear. Of course Tom didn't share her stance, postulating that only a fool would continue to trust Red. He then spoke of Scottie, connecting with her, and being extended an invitation to join her contingency on the opposite coast.

"I'd rather be a fool and pursue what I want on my own terms than anyone's puppet."

With minimal deliberation on his part, Tom gathered his things and organized them between a pair of duffel bags. She closed her eyes as he approached her, swallowing as his lips met her forehead for what she hoped was the last time.

"Goodbye, Liz."

Soon after, she heard the door draw close. Again, she was alone.

What was she supposed to feel?

All she could do was pace back and forth, worrying the scar on her palm and looking between the floor, the walls, and her cell phone deposited on the corner desk. Per ritual, Morgan dropped by, leaving several dishes for lunch and dinner, but she couldn't eat.

Hearing _his_ voice and being reunited with _her_ daughter.

That's what mattered.

Four hours later, the call came.


	2. Chapter 2

Uncertainty as to what awaited her was the beginning as Baz guided her toward the living room area. The property was a larger scale derivative of the cabin she frequented two years earlier and similarly decorated.

Classical music emanated from the speaker system. Portraits and rare compositions aligned the walls. To the far left was a piano. She easily envisioned Red playing: his smooth hands gliding across the keys, his face a mask of concentration but oddly relaxed as well. On the opposite end was a love seat and recliner currently occupied by an injured, sleeping Dembe.

The book on his chest indicated he was reading before.

The operation hadn't gone as smoothly as anticipated, she learned en route.

Averting her eyes to the couch in the center, she quietly approached, and her heart warmed at the sight. Both Red and Agnes were stretched along the length of the couch, sound asleep as well.

_This is my daughter. I'm begging you._

There were so many what-ifs.

Claiming top prize by miles was how different her subsequent course of action would've been had she permitted Red to see Agnes when he asked. If she watched him hold her, look at her, there was no way she could either betray him or hurt him. Factoring into the equation how quickly the bond between him and Agnes would form, how enamored of him she would be, extricating herself from Red would hurt her daughter as well.

She couldn't hurt her child like that.

She would've stayed - she _should have_ stayed.

Neither she nor Agnes needed to fear Red. If anything, it was safe to bet he would take additional precautions in ensuring they were well-off and protected. Returning to the present, she couldn't help but smile openly.

Carefully, she moved the ottoman closer and sat across from them, cataloguing every detail. His right hand was on Agnes's back, holding her securely against his chest, while his left arm was under her. Agnes's tiny fist peeked out from beneath the blanket she was wrapped in. Only her small hand and the back of her head were visible.

Her child was home.

She was safe.

She was loved, thanks to Red.

Lifting her eyes to his face, she frowned at the dark bruises marring his left cheek.

Not wanting to wake her daughter just yet, Lizzie rested a hand on his exposed forearm and squeezed lightly, equally hesitant about disturbing him but finding it necessary. After awhile, his breathing changed. Then, he blinked and turned his head toward her, mindful of Agnes in his arms. There was a bandage over his right eye as well, keeping a row of stitches in place.

"How long have you been here?" Red asked in a whisper.

"Not long."

Lizzie chewed her lip, willing herself to stay composed when he first looked to Agnes fondly and then directed a smile at her. Her hand was still on his arm. His gaze was equal parts soft and intense. The longer his eyes remained locked on hers, the more her nerves frayed.

A groan from Red broke the quiet.

"Elizabeth, could you…"

Standing from the ottoman, Lizzie moved to Red's side, keeping one hand at his elbow and the other on Agnes's back as he moved to an upright position and then sank further into the leather cushions, all without waking her.

He's done this before, she thought silently.

An image of him as a younger man with Jennifer appeared in her mind's eye.

Unsure whether he wanted her to sit next to him or not, she remained standing, looking over her shoulder to check on Dembe. He hadn't stirred. Turning back to Red, she admired how attuned he was to Agnes who now looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Holding her to him with his left arm, he stroked her cheek with his right thumb. Her fist opened and closed, reaching for his index finger which he willingly gave.

Soon after, Agnes relaxed again.

Watching Red with her daughter, seeing how comfortable she was with him, was infinitely precious. There was so much she missed out on, and she had only herself to hold accountable for that. At the same time, the exchange helped further cement her deductions from earlier in the evening, but the immediate problem, however, remained.

Lines were rarely straight in dealing with life-altering variables. That combined with the mess the recent months resembled, making a course correction would be anything but easy, and that's presuming Red will hear her out.

But she was determined to try.

She had to try.

_Maybe he could change. Maybe he's not damaged beyond repair. Maybe he could make amends to all those that he's hurt so terribly._

Though the original context was very different, she clung to the optimism in those words.

Resigned to having space between them, Lizzie moved to take her previous position on the ottoman when Red stopped her.

"Sit with me, Elizabeth." He said, his eyes never leaving Agnes's face.

There was a warmth to his address that had been absent for some time, perhaps a byproduct of Agnes being in his arms, knowing for himself that she was safe. Taking a deep breath, she filled the vacancy next to Red, their knees brushing as they used to whenever they sat close.

Any physical contact, she found, was good.

The only thing lacking was initiative. Yes, it was Red who extended the first olive branch, but progressing beyond that she knew would be harder – if not impossible. So control of this moment, the here and now, he surrendered either consciously or unconsciously to her.

There were so many things she wanted to say, but where would she begin?

With the silence being a comfortable one, she took a moment to look at him, really look at him. He had lost weight, indicated by how loose the perfectly tailored shirt was on his frame. The lines on his face, especially around his eyes, were sharper. She could tell by the way he held his shoulders that he was tired. Apart from this evening, he hadn't actually slept in a long time.

Did she do this to him?

"Why didn't I see it before, how I hurt you?" She began, fighting back the urge to cover his hand with hers.

He deliberated for a second or two. "People see only what they want to."

"What does that mean?" She countered.

"No one's perspective is ever really pure. How we see and interpret what's around us, it's all skewed or influenced by something. The other person becomes whatever he or she desires of them. Roles are assigned, and the players simply act out the parts they're given."

"You don't believe that."

"Not always, but in this case it's true. You've proven that."

His jaw tensed.

She further detected the constraint in his voice.

"In our set of circumstances, I'm your scapegoat. I'm the person that you come to and lean on when it suits you, when you have nowhere to go or are out of answers. A convenience – that's what I represent to you. That's what you need me to be."

This wasn't how she wanted things to go, as often the case.

She had to retake control.

"No, Red. That's not…I am so, so sorry. I've done so many things wrong. Faking my death…" She trailed off, taking a deep breath. This is what she needed, to hear herself say that out loud. "It's the worst thing I've ever done. I can't take it back. I wish that I could, but I can't."

"Really?! That's the conversation you want to have right now?" He replied, gesturing to the child sleeping in his arms.

"Yes, it must be now because this, what Kate and I did, involves _her_."

She wasn't surprised that he scoffed. What she was, however, was hurt which she didn't really have a right to be given what Red coined as their set of circumstances.

"Like I said before, I was wrong. I guess I…I didn't really think."

"No, you didn't." He was quick to agree on that.

"Kate told me that Agnes would never be safe in your world." He scoffed again which didn't deter her. "But she was wrong. It's not just your world, Ray –"

"Don't!"

She recoiled, alarmed by the rather sudden exclamation. She was finally making progress until… How could she have been so stupid?

"Don't say my name again."

_Raymond, I do love…_

From his perspective, it was the last moment he shared with her.

It was the last time she spoke to him.

Detracting each from their respective reveries was Agnes who began to fuss, shifting in Red's embrace. Her eyes opened, and they were bright with tears. She grasped his finger with more force as she looked between the two adults and focused squarely on him again.

"Sshh, sweetheart. Everything's alright," Red assured her and himself frankly. He was so angry that his shoulders shook.

"I'm sorry," She heard him repeat again and again. Agnes relinquished his finger only when he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. Her palm flattened against the side of his face, cries long forgotten, and Lizzie's heart shattered.

Her own baby knew Raymond Reddington better than she did.

She trusted him.

Now grasping his finger again, it didn't take long for Agnes to settle down and go back to sleep.

"Is she okay, Raymond?"

She jumped at the sound of Dembe's voice whereas Red barely reacted. His energy was diverted to his breathing, reaching a place of calm. The younger man crossed the room and rounded the couch, kneeling at Red's side.

"Yes, Agnes is fine. Elizabeth and I were just…" He worked his jaw a bit. "I lost myself for a moment."

Neither man offered more, or needed to by the looks of it.

Dembe placed a hand on his shoulder before regarding her coolly. "Miss Keen."

She nodded.

"Did you speak with Isabella and Elle earlier?" Red chimed in.

"Yes, they're both fine. Isa wanted to speak with you, make sure you were okay, but you were asleep. I promised her you'd call in the morning."

It was Red's turn to nod.

"I will. What time is it now?" He asked, curious.

Checking his watch, Dembe answered. "A quarter past three. There are some things I have to review with Baz before the shift changes. Should either of you need anything, I'll be right outside."

The two men exchanged a look.

By her estimation, Dembe was trying to ascertain if they would be okay alone - more accurately, if _he_ would be okay - which was disconcerting. But then, he left.

The sting abated, and three occupants filled the room.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're still shaking." Lizzie observed, reaching for Red in the same breath. Her fingertips hadn't so much as ghosted across the material of his dress shirt before he flinched. Whatever progress she enjoyed minutes ago was seemingly long gone.

Back to square one.

"Please, talk to me." She implored, her hands folded helplessly across her lap.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Something, anything...Tell me what happened to you, and please don't scoff." One could attribute the latter request to intuition which Red always appreciated.

Even now, he couldn't deny her anything.

"Before I answer, there are two things I'd like to know." Red looked at her. "First, what you said about Kate, her telling you that Agnes would never be safe in my world, was there more?"

Of course there was.

"Yes, there was more. There _is_ more." His eyes were brimming from anticipation which renewed her spark and earlier vigor. "You once advised me that the Cabal won't allow me to walk away, and you were right. The quarrel you have with them, this war, it's not just your own anymore. The same applies to your world. The battle - it's _ours_ to fight. Your world is _my_ world too."

If he would permit her at his side went unspoken. He respected her so much which ironically was part of the problem. Continually, Red gave and then gave more, and she did nothing except take in equal measure.

Starting now, things were going to be different.

Lizzie insisted on that.

"You said there were two things." She reminded him.

"Second...That day, when you called me by name, you spoke of love." Red paused again to take a breath, not wanting to come across as presumptuous but confident in his deduction just the same. "Were you going to say that you loved me?"

"Yes."

There was no hesitation in her answer.

"Did you mean it?"

Another affirmation.

"Do you still mean it?"

"I do."

"If that's true, then why did you - "

"It's the truth. I don't know why I didn't stand up to Kate and Tom, but I..."

"Tom." The venom in his voice was unmistakable. "I was going to ask why you ran, but of course you would bring him into this conversation."

"He's not my husband."

Red shook his head ruefully. "It really doesn't matter who he is or isn't, does it?"

"It means something to _you_ , so it matters. That's why I'm telling you he's not my husband. You saw to that the day Agnes was born." She winced as soon as the last sentence passed her throat, imagining how the man next to her would respond.

His chuckle was the last reaction she considered.

"It's my fault you aren't married to someone that you don't love? That's rich."

"Red, please. Listen to me." She said, exasperated.

"You. Chose. Him." He emphasized every word, careful to keep his voice low and not disturb Agnes again.

_After all the lies, all the deception and humiliation, how you can just forgive and forget._

_I haven't forgotten._

Broken and small were adjectives she found to be foreign, the furthest thing from synonymous, in pertinence to Red, but before her was tangible proof.

"You told me that some things can't be forgiven, but I hope you can forgive me. I need you to forgive me. I ran because I was stupid. I was afraid not of loving you but of the ramifications of acting on that love. You and I, we already had targets on our backs. We still have targets on our backs. Agnes came into the world, and I thought..."

"You thought I would never find out."

"Find out? What does - "

"Agnes is my daughter, _our_ daughter."

She swallowed thickly, feeling even more embarrassed.

It was one night.

They shared one night together, and it encapsulated perfection. The timing, the location, the atmosphere, everything was just right: standing together on the ship deck, the stars glistening over them, the waves crashing, shoulders brushing as he spoke.

Best of all was the person.

_I think you would have made a terrific captain._

Red was that and more.

_When I look at you, that's what I see. I see my way home._

Being on the run was an entirely new experience, but he didn't make her feel like an amateur or treat her like some damsel. She was his equal. He stimulated her mind and body. Turning toward him, she realized how tired she was. She was tired of fighting not just herself but the attraction between them that existed from day one.

Their lips collided, and both fell deeper.

In his arms was the safest place she had ever been which made the charade of pretending the night never happened all the more difficult. She told herself it meant nothing when, in fact, it meant everything.

And a new life was born.

"I didn't want her to be like us. I never wanted to hurt you."

"I watched you die. I felt your life slip away. How was that not supposed to hurt? Then, it turns out that you were in another sector of the world planning a life that didn't include me, one that included another man raising _my child_. And yet here you are, expecting me to believe that you and him are done, but you're not done. And you don't know what you want."

"We are. He's not - "

"In your life anymore? I've heard that before, Lizzie. What happens the next time he reappears or you get scared? Are you going to take him back and push me away again, make me feel like nothing? You ran away, and what did it get you? What did you run away for?"

"To find my way back home."

He caught the reference, as she hoped.

_Sailors have been navigating by the stars for thousands of years. Odysseus spent a decade at war, but his biggest battle was finding his way home._

Lizzie reached for him again, and this time she didn't retract her hand when he tensed. She grasped his bicep and held firm, the muscle beneath contracting and expanding as he attempted to move. "I spoke with Mr. Kaplan regularly, or as often as we could. I won't try to argue or defend her reasoning. I won't ask...what you've done to her either."

On cue, his left eye twitched.

"I don't need to know."

"Don't you?"

"No. I'm already responsible for so much. Really, I don't want to know."

Unsure of how to respond, he said nothing.

"I always asked about you - I missed you. She never let on that anything was wrong. You were fine, that's all she said. I didn't entirely believe that because...How could you be? If the roles were reversed, I know that I'd be devastated. But I suspected or began to suspect something was off, something changed, after speaking with Tom. We only spoke once." She clarified.

Oddly calm, Red asked. "What did he tell you?"

"You disappeared for a few days. No one knew where you were, not even Dembe."

"He still doesn't know."

"But why?" She dropped her hand from his bicep to cover one of his. "You've never lied to me, so please don't start now. Tell me."

"I had to leave. I had to let you go because we were surrounded by police. Kate kept insisting when I was with you in the back of the ambulance. But I couldn't. I...I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I could barely breathe. I held onto you for a long time, just...held your hand, anything to prolong saying goodbye. Accept that you were really gone."

The images evoked by hearing his recollection were vivid.

Multi-colored.

"It was suggested to me that it was delusional on my part to ever believe I could keep you safe, protect you from what was coming, and the mistakes I made with you weren't going to repeat themselves with Agnes."

"You kept me safe." She assured him.

"Did I?"

"Yes, and whatever mistakes were made they were mine, not yours. I endangered myself in separating from you after you kept your word to me. You promised that I'd make it through the Connolly investigation, and I did. I wouldn't have without you. All that's happened since that day is on me. It's my fault."

The silence stretched, each person lost in their own thoughts.

She spoke first. "Where did you go?"

"I went to Cape May."

That surprised her. "Where my mother..."

"Yes. Preceding that, I spent time at an opium den. I wanted an escape, to feel nothing and just be numb if only for a little while. When I traveled up the coast, stopping at the beach, I thought of Katarina - what she did. For a moment, I contemplated joining her."

_The man she loved killed by the child she adored. It was just too much. Two months later, she went to Cape May and left her clothes on the beach, walked into the ocean, and was never seen again._

Lizzie turned away, sickened by the depth of the pain she caused and equally horrified by the scenes her mind constructed.

"You went there to die?"

He shook his head. "There are a variety of reasons to explain my going there, but that's not one of them. I promise you. The place is significant as it's the one area where I know had I acted the outcome would've been different. If I had saved Katarina, then maybe..."

"She made a choice, Red. You and I can wish she chose a different way. We can weigh the pros and cons, debate right versus wrong, but the decision ultimately was hers. You did everything that you could for her."

"And you're certain of that?"

"I am."

"How?"

"Because when the people you care about are at risk, you don't cut corners. You go all in to protect them, to keep them safe, even if doing so means putting yourself in danger as well. Selfless - that's who you are, _what_ you are." Seeing his puzzled look, she continued. "I also know that you saved me. You're saving me now...just as you saved me _then_."

The event she alluded to was no secret.

"How long have you known?"

She laughed. "I've known for some time, Red."

He shook his head, impressed. "It took a change of location for both of us to get what we needed. In addition to an escape, I went to Cape May to find an answer to 'What if?', and what I found instead was much more important."

Her curiosity piqued.

"What did you find?"

"Purpose." Red gestured to Agnes. "Dembe has been my only family for so long. Had I acted differently back then, that wouldn't be the case. And we wouldn't have her now. She's a part of us, a part of _you_. I could never walk away from that, not unless you asked me to."

Lizzie leaned into him, pressing her chin to his shoulder, and followed his line of sight.

"Us. Here. Together. That's the only future I'm interested in, and I'm not walking away from it either. Never again."

**THE END**


End file.
